


She, Myself, And I

by vondrostes



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Canon Compliant, Feminine Harry, Genderfluid Harry, HS2 era, Light Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: “It’s me,” he said quietly.“What?”Harry sniffed; turned his head again to look at Nick, voice a little bolder. “You asked who ‘she’ is. It’s me.”





	She, Myself, And I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DuchessKitty16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuchessKitty16/gifts).



> This is another commission for Kat using the #23: Shibari drabble I did for Kinktober on P/atreon. I'm going to say that this is compliant with the genderfluid Harry fic I wrote a while back called "Let's Go Girls".
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Nick didn’t get nervous often. This was one of those rare exceptions, prompted (of course) by none other than Harry Styles. Not for the first time, Nick silently berated himself as the cab pulled up the warehouse where they were meant to meet.

Part of the problem was that Harry didn’t yet know they were meeting. The surprise had been planned ages ago, after Harry’s assistant had let slip that they were planning on doing a photoshoot in New York while Harry was in town for some event Nick couldn’t care less about.

And of course, Nick had booked a plane ticket as soon as she’d told him, claiming he wanted to be there ‘for the experience’. Well, it was certainly turning out to be an experience, all right.

Nick sucked in a deep breath and tipped the driver before climbing out of the cab into the frigid New York City night. It wasn’t much warmer inside the warehouse, the first floor of which was mostly empty, save for a few scattered sets across the open floorspace.

Harry was on the third floor, so Nick didn’t waste much time getting up there. The lift was a little rickety, doing nothing to soothe Nick’s frayed nerves, but otherwise silent. It was a stark contrast when the doors opened to reveal a bustling workspace, filled with so many people that Nick wasn’t even sure where to begin looking to find Harry.

He needn’t have worried—Harry was a blindingly bright patch of scarlet stood in the middle of a sea of black and grey, serene as ever despite the high energy of all the people scattering to get things ready.

No one stopped Nick on his way over to Harry, but to his credit, Harry did look surprised to see him.

“Your assistant spill the beans, then?” Nick asked with a wry smile.

Harry shrugged. He was clad in a silk robe, hanging open to just above his belly button, with no other visible clothing beneath. “She said to expect _someone_ ,” he clarified. “She just didn’t say who.”

“Well,” Nick said, throwing up a pathetic attempt at jazz hands. “Surprise? I figured I could get in some valuable research, you know, figure out what makes a Harry Styles album tick.”

Harry wrapped him up in a tight embrace without responding, and Nick could feel Harry’s smile through the fabric of his shirt. “I thought you were specialising in live music,” Harry finally said as he pulled away.

“I am,” Nick protested. “That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate other aspects of the process.”

Harry gave a snort that would have been unattractive under any other circumstances. “Well,” he said as a team of people came rushing over to them, “I hope the experience doesn’t disappoint.”

Nick didn’t have much of a chance to chat with Harry after that. Not that he even remembered the English language once Harry dropped his robe, revealing that he really was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Harry didn’t even have on a pair of pants, which didn’t seem to bother him any despite the frigid temperature and the swarming mass of people all around him.

“Sir?” There was a woman at Nick’s elbow. He hardly spared her a glance, too focused on the fact that Harry was still completely naked and being tied up—well, not tied up so much as just plain tied, but still—by an entire team of people, with long strings of lavender and lilac rope, in which tiny flowers had been braided through. “Would you like to take a seat while you wait?”

Finally, Nick tore his eyes away from Harry to look down at the woman pestering him instead. She gestured to a canvas chair off to the side with an apologetic smile, and Nick’s expression softened.

“Sure, thanks,” he replied before sitting down in the seat she’d designated.

From there he could see everything he needed to see, namely Harry, who was quickly beginning to resemble a human garden: one Nick very much wanted to roll around in. Apparently, Harry had decided to go full method actor for this quirky flower-child-meets-rope-bunny album shoot he’d cooked up for his sophomore offering. Nick certainly wasn’t complaining.

Definitely not when Harry climbed onto the monstrosity of a bed and started posing beneath the studio lights, his skin illuminated in soft shades of purple to match the blossoms encircling him from head to toe.

All in all, the shoot itself took only just over an hour. By the end of it, Nick was sweating nearly as much as Harry despite the fact that he hadn’t been the one sitting under the hot lights all that time. Or well, lying under them. Provocatively.

It had been absolute torture for Nick, who couldn’t do anything but watch as Harry was fussed over and posed by the photographer and his posse of assistants, all of whom seemed a little too eager to manhandle Harry for his tastes.

Nick clung to his chair, waiting for Harry to get dressed again before going over to him, but for some reason Harry seemed content to examine the photos while still naked and trussed up like a Christmas ham. He waved Nick over a few seconds later; Nick forgot how to perform every bodily function at once, but he went, obediently.

“You know, you could’ve worn pants,” Nick said a bit breathlessly once he reached him.

Harry looked up from the viewfinder to give Nick a shit-eating grin. “I could have, yeah.”

Nick wasn’t sure whether to be more aroused or annoyed in that moment and ended up settling for an unsatisfying mixture of both as he scanned through the pictures along with Harry and his photographer. Eventually, Harry picked out his favourites and the photographer wandered off to do…something. Nick hadn’t been paying much attention, to be perfectly honest.

Harry was still grinning at him knowingly after she’d left. “I hope you enjoyed your ‘experience’,” he said, making the air quotes and everything.

Nick ignored him, still fascinated the by the ropes criss-crossing over Harry’s naked body. “Sensitive?” he asked instead upon seeing the slight redness of Harry’s chafed skin underneath. He slid a finger under one of the ropes and carefully brushed over the pink lines of irritation.

Harry’s breath hitched at the slight touch. “Very.”

Nick swallowed around a lump of anticipation that had formed in the back of his throat. His fingers still itched with need even while they were still touching Harry’s skin. “Want you to put your clothes back on,” he said, his voice sounding scratchier than usual.

“What? Like this?”

“Yeah, just. Over it. Like that. Want to unwrap you when we get back to your place.”

Harry gave a mock-pout as he stepped closer to Nick, ever the tease. Always a little bit of a brat. “Well, it won’t be much of a surprise now, will it?”

“The surprise is what I’m going to do to you once I’ve got you to myself.”

Nick had never seen Harry jump into clothes faster. It was almost a disappointment when he was finished, all the pretty bits Nick had admired through the afternoon shielded by his t-shirt and sweats.

Nick couldn’t help but draw a finger down over the soft black fabric anyway, tracing the lines of rope underneath in an effort to reassure himself. “Just making sure I didn’t dream this all up,” he said in response to Harry’s inquisitive look.

The comment got a chuckle from Harry, who squirmed away when Nick’s fingers strayed down to his ribs. “Maybe you should get a better imagination if this is the best you can come up with,” he taunted.

“Just get in the car, popstar.”

“Rockstar, now.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”

Harry insisted on driving them himself, for some reason, but Nick was secretly grateful for it as it lessened the temptation he would have had otherwise to ravish Harry right there in the car, like a horny teenager or summat. Nick liked to think he had more patience than that. He was in his thirties, after all. He was dignified.

Nick felt a little less so when they pulled into the parking garage of Harry’s New York apartment and he had to stand next to Harry in the lift with a rather noticeable erection tenting his trousers. Harry didn’t comment on it, which made Nick feel like he shouldn’t be the one to bring it up either.

It was difficult, pretending to ignore the fact that he knew Harry was tied up all pretty underneath his shabby chic athleticwear, but somehow Nick managed to contain himself for the duration of the trip upstairs.

He followed Harry inside, staring a little at the pert bum he’d gotten a tantalising glimpse of earlier, before quickly averting his eyes when Harry turned around to lock the door behind them.

“You said you had the mock-ups already for the jacket design,” Nick said airily. Now that they were in Harry’s flat, he found himself wanting to drag this out a little longer, make Harry really squirm.

“Uh-huh.” Harry had wandered away in the time it had taken Nick to come up with that cunning plan and was frozen in the mouth of the hallway that led to his bedroom, looking confused. He hadn’t caught on to Nick’s scheme yet.

“I’d love to see them,” Nick told him. He lifted his brows in expectation, waiting.

“Oh,” Harry replied, frowning a little. “Well, come on, then.” He led Nick into his bedroom, where his rose gold Macbook was already sat open on top of the covers—unmade, of course. Evidently, not even the knowledge that he was due a surprise visitor was compelling enough to inspire Harold to make up his bed.

Harry plopped down with a quiet little sigh, followed by a sharp flinch, but he didn’t comment on his apparent discomfort. Nick followed him down onto the bed and folded himself in close as Harry propped the laptop up in his lap so Nick could see.

“Um, so,” Harry started, and Nick could see him pinking up a bit, “I wanted to keep the cover simple, like the last one, so just the photo, I think.” He clicked a folder on his desktop, and Nick squinted to read the text onscreen. “This is what we were thinking for the inside booklet,” Harry continued, showing Nick various bits of the layout, some of which were still blank to accommodate for the photographs Harry had just taken.

But there was one part in particular that caught Nick’s eye. “I thought you hadn’t come up with a title yet,” he said, only a little accusing. It was something Nick had specifically asked about after all, when Harry had mentioned he’d finished up in the studio and was ready to move on to the next stage in the process.

Harry was even redder now. “Well, I….” He glanced up at Nick helplessly, clearly floundering.

Nick decided to cut him some slack. “It’s fine,” he said. “Who’s the ‘she’, though?” He hadn’t given much thought to the potential contents of Harry’s second album in comparison to the first, but now that he’d seen the working title, Nick couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Wasn’t Harry past offering a palatable illusion of straightness by now?

Harry didn’t answer for nearly a full minute, instead staring intently at the words in bold on the screen: She, Myself, and I.

“It’s me,” he said quietly.

“What?”

Harry sniffed; turned his head again to look at Nick, voice a little bolder. “You asked who ‘she’ is. It’s me.”

“Oh.” Nick glanced down quickly at the laptop, unable to meet Harry’s eyes for much longer. There were a number of jumbled puzzle pieces in his head slowly drawing together as the seconds passed by. “Oh,” he said again.

“I don’t know what that means,” Harry replied. There was a detectable note of panic in his voice.

Nick turned to him swiftly and pulled Harry’s head into his chest, cradling him like a baby. “I wish you’d told me sooner,” he said.

“Why?” was Harry’s muffled response.

Because Nick knew how Harry got about this sort of thing, especially when he was left to obsess about it. Alone. “Does anyone else know?” Nick asked instead of answering.

“Mitch,” Harry replied. “Sarah. Clare. Jeff. I haven’t really told anyone else.”

“What about Gemma?” Nick inquired. “Your mum.” He could feel Harry tensing up in his arms.

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” Harry told him in a flat voice. “No offence.”

“We can talk about whatever you like,” Nick reassured him.

Harry tilted his head back to stare up at Nick. “I was hoping there’d be a lot less talking, full stop,” he said.

“Right,” Nick replied, becoming aware in that instant of the way that the ropes under Harry’s clothes were pressing against his own skin through two layers of fabric. He leaned forward to set Harry’s laptop out of the way and took off his shirt, pausing once it was over his head.

He’d had an idea. “Would you be comfortable if…do you want me to use ‘she’ more?” he wondered.

Harry seemed startled by the question. He laid his head down against the pillows and squirmed a bit, trying futilely to get comfortable. “You’d want to?” he asked, hopefully, Nick thought.

“If that’s what you like, then yeah.” Nick tugged at Harry’s trousers, but he was careful about it, not wanting to ruin the intricate ropework.

The blossoms were a little bit crushed, but overall the effect remained the same once Harry was fully nude under Nick’s gaze once again.

“It’s not just—” Harry stopped himself. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’d like that.”

There was more to it, obviously, and Nick could tell that he’d mis-stepped, though he wasn’t quite sure how. But clearly, Harry wasn’t up to a conversation about it right now, and the way his hard cock strained against his belly as they stared at each other made that even more evident.

“Okay,” Nick said. “How should I—what should I say?” He was out of his depth here.

Harry twitched restlessly, looking a bit bashful. “I don’t really know,” he admitted, voice low and shy in a distinctive manner that told Nick that Harry knew exactly what he wanted but was too embarrassed to say.

But Nick could play things by ear if he had to.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asked. Maybe it would be easier to take the focus off of the unfamiliar for the moment.

Harry nodded eagerly and reached for the lube he kept in the bedside drawer. He tossed it to Nick, who caught it easily, and immediately began slicking up his fingers. He’d waited too bloody long to fuss about with foreplay right now. Harry was usually good to go a couple rounds, and with the way he looked all tied up in soft lavender, Nick was confident he’d be up for the same.

“You look so good like this,” Nick told Harry as he inserted two fingers without any trouble at all. Seeing he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted, he changed tacks. “Pretty,” he added. “The flowers were a nice touch.”

Harry flushed a little at that, so Nick kept going.

“You know, you’re probably the prettiest person I’ve ever met,” Nick told him. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

Harry’s face bloomed a sudden, startling crimson, and for a moment Nick thought he’d gone too far. “Really?” Harry asked in a small voice. Nick was two-fingers deep in Harry’s arse, but he’d never seen him look more supremely innocent than in that moment. “You’re not just saying that?”

Nick shook his head. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever had eyes for, Harold,” he replied, trying for a bit of humour.

Harry laughed, which made Nick release an internal sigh of relief even as the movement forced Harry to clench down on his fingers, making him jolt. “Three?” Nick asked.

Harry shook his head. “You can fuck me,” he said. “Gonna come quick, though.”

Nick pulled out his fingers and moved to lube up his cock instead. “Not gonna last long myself, love.” He leaned down to kiss Harry as he pressed into him, slow and careful, because even though Harry had done this a lot—more than Nick probably knew—going straight from two fingers to a fairly decent-sized cock was still a lot.

Harry took it well though, sighing as he pushed out to let Nick slide in even deeper, letting his eyes close, his face go slack with the pleasure. Harry liked being filled more than he liked anything else, he’d told Nick that once. He couldn’t get enough of it.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Nick asked as he began a slow rhythm inside Harry’s body, wanting to make sure Harry came before he did, or at least get him close enough that Nick could still stand to be inside him when Harry did come.

Harry shook his head. His face twisted up a little on the next stroke in, and Nick was shocked into stillness when Harry came, just like that, with hardly anything at all to push him over the edge.

“You okay?” Nick checked.

Harry nodded. He threw an arm over his eyes, but Nick couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or just because he was so overwhelmed.

“Can I keep going?”

“Please,” Harry murmured.

Nick steadied himself, gripping Harry’s hips over the ropes digging gently into his skin, and pumped into him fast and hard, worrying only about coming even as he sang praises into Harry’s ear.

“Lovely,” he murmured against Harry’s throat. “Lovely girl. My girl.”

Harry shuddered and quaked through it all like he was still coming, shivering still even after Nick had come inside him and then pulled out again.

“We should talk about this soon,” Nick said as he wrapped Harry up in his arms tight, his front to Harry’s back the way they both liked it best. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Harry nodded. Nick couldn’t see Harry’s expression, but he could feel a bit of moisture trickle onto his forearm, from where he had it wound around Harry’s chest. “I was scared,” he finally admitted after a few minutes had gone bye.

Nick nosed into Harry’s curls and inhaled deep. “It’s okay to be scared,” he said. “But you shouldn’t have to be.” After what he’d seen in the past eight years, Nick couldn’t bear to see Harry afraid to share himself ever again.


End file.
